On Wednesday October 21st Plug Research will invade BLVD NYC on Bowery with some of the best soul, hip hop and experimental music of today by some of the most dynamic and interesting artists of today.

Bilal will headline the show with a six piece band, and the host of the evening is Pharoahe Monch. Shafiq Husayn of the SA-RA collective will perform material off the new album Shafiq En’ A-Free-Ka, with musical collaborators from the album Stephen“Thundercat“Bruner and Miguel Atwood-Ferguson. Exile will be showcasing his famous wizadry on the MPC with a guest spot by Blu, one of the best new MC’s around. DJ sets will be provided by Blu Jemz, the legendary Large Professor and mind-blowing combination of Spinna and J Rocc.

This has the makings of a classic show, take advantage of presale tickets, do not miss out!

Representing the creatively fertile hip hop class of 1991, the underground hip hop duo Organized Konfusion will play on the jam-packed bill of the 3-day All Points West Music & Arts Festival this July 31st at Liberty State Park, NJ. It will be the group’s first reunion since the late 90′s.

While their self-titled debut saw little commercial success, platinum records were certainly not the point. This proto-”undie” hip hop group, consisting of Prince Poetry and Pharoahe Monch, bounced rhymes off each other like an Olympic table-tennis team, turning them into thesaurus rap champions revered by an army of head-nodding backpackers. Both MCs can transcend even the most uninspired beats, which is why Organized Konfusion will be remembered.

The holiday season is always a sickening deluge of parties, stiff “holiday cheer” (which I temper with stiff drinks) and a glut of obligations. In a year of highs (getting my own column, fluffing an increasingly enviable Afro) and lows (finally ending that relationship, trying not to strangle yokels at the day job) I needed the festive distractions of the silly season more than ever. I spent Thanksgiving in the ER grappling with my mother’s decaying health taking breaks only to try to coax her into retiring and to bitch about the lack of beer in the hospital gift shop. At dinner, I looked after my mother during one of those large family gatherings attended by old African aunties and uncles who think “my writing career in New York” is a euphemism for “hooking on Hunts Point.” I returned to New York only to field calls from relatives who dropped clumsy hints (“why don’t you move back to Boston and take of your mother?”) about how I should handle the situation. Hello stress-related acne.

Managing her health crisis from another state, doctors regarded me like a crackpot with reverse-Munchausen syndrome. After rattling off a list of concerns M.D.s would respond “well she looks just dandy! We sent her off with some Halls and a smile. To do any conclusive tests we’ll need her consent and $20,000 for a new vending machine in the break room. Where are you calling from again?” Doctors would announce to colleagues that I was her daughter from New York as if I wasn’t interested in her well-being but instead looking for the right moment to steal her wallet. Between witnessing my ever-fabulous mother (we used to get mistaken for sisters until, well, I moved away) fade into a shadow of her former self and dealing with residents who act like they got their book-learnin’ from the Fisher Price School of My First Malpractice Suit, I needed some cot-damn holiday cheer.

The only fete I could drag myself to was the Okayplayer and Frank 151 bash at B.B. Kings. The lineup was like The Roots Present Everyone They’ve Ever Met – EVER. Melle Mel milled about in a white suit that can only be described as “pimpalicious.” After a tepid set by Tanya Morgan featuring 88 Keys and a jazzy appearance from Alice Smith, Res and Talib Kweli satisfied fans with “Get By” and “We Got The Beat.” When The Roots began rocking the frenetic thump of “You Got Me,” we knew it was time for an extra special female guest. Out came Estelle with a completely uncalled-for bowl cut. Despite the “Family Ties” hair, she delivered a dubby version of the classic Roots joint and segued into her dubby single, “Come Over.”

After The Roots performed Fela Kuti’s “Beasts Of No Nation,” Bilal, looking and sounding like the bastard love child of Melvin Van Peebles and Prince, howled his way through an epic rendition “Soul Sista.” Q-Tip performed “Manwomanboogie,” “Gettin’ Up” and a few gnarly freestyle bars. Pharoahe Monch and Black Thought joined in and then, smooth as pie, Q-Tip swapped drumming duties with ?uestlove. So then, it’s ‘Tip on drums, Thought on the mic and my jaw on the floor. I left around 2 AM with the plucky tones of The Roots’ “Next Movement” as my traveling music.

I dread it every year but in 2008, I learned that the holidays can always be worse. So bless The Roots, a band that has given me countless memories that don’t involve congested shopping malls and tense family moments. Bless the friends who have been able to slip in a festive distraction here and there. And bless my ma, whose wallet I hope to make off with come Christmas morn.